Atin Bralor
by AtinBralor
Summary: This is a story based around my OC, Atin Bralor - daughter of Fi Skirata and Parja Bralor. Will not always be written from her point of view/ will not focus purely on her life. Chapters are not chronological but are dated. She is an OC for my MandoMerc persona so this is the written existence of a costumed character. As always; rated M for future chapters
1. Birth 19BBY

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or settings, except for Atin Bralor. **_

**Glossary:**

_Beskad_ – traditional Mandalorian saber made from _beskar_.

_Beskar_ – Mandalorian iron; when worked correctly, an extremely strong metal which can deflect even a lightsaber blow.

_Buir_ – father/mother.

_Kandosii_ – Colloquially, means awesome ~ taken more to mean congratulations in this case.

_Kar'yai_ – central, communal room of the _vheh'yaim._

_Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya_ – Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger.

_Ner_ – my.

_Shebs_ – butt.

_Su'cuy_ – Hi.

_Ta'buir_ – my own mash-up word meaning 'second father'; from the word _t'ad_ (two) and _buir_ (father). Represents Atin's position as a second father figure, and ultimately the person who will adopt her if anything ever happens to her birth parents.

_Tihaar_ – a clear spirit.

_Udesii_ – relax; take it easy; calm down.

_Vheh'yaim_ – Traditional Mandalorian home. Wheelhouse structure, traditionally a temporary structure of timber, vines and mud.

_Vod_ – bother/sister (can also mean 'friend').

_Vod'ika_ – diminutive ~ little brother/sister.

* * *

**_Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore __ 19BBY_**

Fi paced anxiously, a behaviour picked up from Kal Skirata. It didn't make any difference but he couldn't seem to stay still. He strode from one end of the main room to the other, making his way between the occupants and stepping over Mird, who was sleeping by Vau's feet in front of the central hearth.

Atin reached up and caught his arm as he passed and gently tugged him down onto the bench, careful not to catch him off balance. "_Udesii_, Fi, sit down. You're making us all dizzy." He put an arm round his shoulders; partly in comfort and partly to keep him there. "She's not the first woman to give birth, and she's a Mando girl! She could pop out a baby while planning an assault. It'll be over soon and you'll have the kid in your arms." He met Kal's eyes across the room and motioned towards his bottle of _tihaar_. "_Kal'buir_, give him something to settle his nerves."

Kal drained his glass and poured a fresh measure of the strong fruit spirit. Before he could lift himself from his chair, Ordo had closed the distance and ferried the glass safely across the sea of legs. It was unusually busy in the main room tonight. Normally everyone went off to do their own thing after the meal, but with the early darkness and cold winter weather, the excitement of Parja's labour had kept everyone together.

Fi sipped from the glass, pulling a face at the powerful after taste "How long?" His voice was almost pleading. "It's been eight hours now, _buir_, how much longer?" He felt as if he were stuck on the adrenaline high of a battle, it ached in his muscles and he was sure that he'd get the shakes when it finally left his body. He lurched to his feet, picking his way across the room to stand by the door, peering into the darkness through the narrow slit windows. He paused for a few minutes before tugging back the heavy lock and heading out into the night.

Ordo made a move towards the door but Skirata waved him back to his seat. "It's okay, Ord'ika, he's just trying to clear his head. There are a lot of eyes on him in here." He looked past them all and nodded at Atin. "Go with him, At'ika. He'll be happy to have your company. Take this…" He held out the bottle of _tihaar_ and his own heavy cloak.

Vau unclipped his black velvet cloak and held it out as well. "And take this for Fi. Don't let him freeze." He stretched as far as he could to hand it over, unwilling to disturb Mird from its spot at his feet. "You'll hear the cheers when the littl'un's born."

Atin found Fi sitting on an outcrop of rock, staring out over the inky black lake with tired and anxious eyes. He draped the black cloak around him and sat down at his side, offering the liquor bottle. "…a drink to the health of your child…and to keep out the cold, _vod'ika_." He put an arm around his slim shoulders, feeling the muscle loss from his forced inactivity. He could tell that his brother was an anxious ball of nerves; the commandos had always been closely attuned to each other's emotions. "It's okay, _ner vod_, everything will be over soon. You're going to have a beautiful baby…"

He didn't need to ask what was bothering him. Matters of family were not part of the Kamino training programme and the commando's ingrained desire to control meant that the unfamiliar situation was enough to raise the blood pressure instantly. Fi was scared of the unknown and he couldn't even tackle the fear head on. Parja had banned all men, except for the doctor Mij Gilimar, from the birth room. The only grounding for birth that the clones had learned was from holoscreen dramas, where the men stood by the bed and held their partner's hand; Mandalorian culture was more old-fashioned and no mother expected her husband to be present. It made the wait even worse – it had been a long day of pretending to get on as normal; as if nothing were happening at all.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Fi managed to gather what he wanted to say. He was staring down at his hands, frustrated more so by his difficulty in getting the words out. Under normal circumstances he was normal, chatty Fi again but when he got emotional; excited, stressed or occasionally angry, he found himself stumbling over words and struggling to coordinate his thoughts and vocalization. Eventually he managed to reply. "What if I can't be a father? I don't have a clue where to even start." He leant forward, resting with his hands on his knees as if the nerves were making him nauseous. "I'll do something wrong, I know I will, I'm not myself anymore. I've got no coordination, I get confused, I forget words…I'm no more than a child myself."

Atin tugged Skirata's cloak tighter around himself, shivering as the cold wind blew in off the water. He wasn't sure how best to provide comfort when, being brutally pragmatic, all these points were true. He picked up a pebble and skimmed it out into the water. "It'll come naturally. Nobody knows what to do until they have to." He gave him a side long glance, taking a swig from the bottle. "You'll be fine. We're all learning how to be normal together…look at me, living under the same roof as the man who scarred me and actually beginning to enjoy his company! If I can manage not to gut Vau, you can manage to be a _buir_. You're our miracle, Fi, and now you're about to become a father. By all odds, you shouldn't have even lived. You can do anything, _ner vod_."

The silence descended again, but he embraced it, rocking the bottle of _tihaar_ in his hands. Neither were big drinkers so Kal was going to get his bottle back largely untouched. The time seemed to pass slowly, only marked by the gradual chill seeping into his bones.

After what seemed like hours, Fi shifted beside him, apparently trying to bring life back into his aching cold limbs. "Atin, did you talk to me when I was unconscious? I have these…dreams…and I don't know if they're real or hallucination."

Atin remained silent for a few moments before replying. "I did." He shifted uncomfortably, hugging the cloak tighter around his shoulders. The topic obviously wasn't an easy one. "I didn't want you to feel alone. I remember being in bacta several times from training and after Qiilura; it gives me nightmares. I've had three prolonged submersions; Vau put me out for weeks twice over and many more short dips. And a Verp round in the chest does some damage too…"

Fi sat quietly, mulling it over in his head. He knew his brother was scarred both physically and psychologically from his training years; Vau had been a harsh sergeant to his squads. Some had taken that style of coaching well but those like Atin had struggled. Most of his 'defining features' were from Vau, not from the enemy, and that seemed wrong on all counts. Fi took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and staring out over the calm water. "Wanna talk about it? You always say 'another time', but right now seems as good a time as any. I've seen the scars, we all have, but none of us understand what went on." He watched his brother in his peripheral vision, noting the small movements which he knew inside out as 'anxious Atin'; the tight breaths and clipped movements. "A problem shared is a problem halved, _vod'ika_."

Atin seemed to give it thought before reaching out for the _tihaar_; steeling himself. "Vau's interrogation training put half of us in bacta. He did what he felt he needed to in order to make us infallible commandos but I struggled. He stripped us, starved us, dehydrated us…humiliated us…and then when we got through that, he tortured us. I didn't think he was going to stop. I thought he was actually going to kill us. He tortured us by depriving us of sleep first; he alternated blinding light and deafening noise until we could barely function and then he took us one by one and interrogated us with electric shock and vibroblade." He paused and swallowed audibly. "The shock treatment shut down my body and I was in bacta for a week." He came to a halt but Fi encouraged him to continue with a gentle hand on his arm. "I lost my first squad in a live training incident. They came to my aid and were wiped out. Vau's disciplining was a choice to fight a brother, or him, until only one was left standing. I couldn't hurt a brother for my mistakes so I fought Vau. He had armour, and a _beskad_, and I had nothing; he cut me apart with that saber. I still have nightmares of bleeding out, and the smell of the blood and adrenaline. And then I lost my second squad at Geonosis…" He was trembling, hands clutching the cloak so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Fi moved to squat in front of him, forcing him to make eye contact. "At'ika, _udesii_. You're safe now. Nightmares can't hurt you." He kept a comforting hand on his arm, concerned by his involuntary trembling. The silence was deep and painful; eventually he felt he needed to break it. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you were affected this badly. I wouldn't have asked if I knew what you had gone through." He took his hand and squeezed it in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Kal trained us hard and went through all the usual starve, dehydrate, strip, humiliate and interrogate, but he never physically wounded us. He threatened us with violence and he did enough to ensure our training was tight, but ultimately we all knew and trusted him. It made him physically sick but he refused to hand over the task to anyone else. Walon's an expert in interrogation, so I guess he didn't want to risk you getting substandard training. I think all the other sergeants handed over the duty."

Atin crushed his hand in return, his nails biting into his brother's skin. "I don't hold a grudge against Walon. He treated us like his own father treated him. I feel sorry for him in that sense." He drew a deep calming breath. "It still gives me nightmares though…"

The noise of the door creaking open jerked them both back to the here and now. They could see Skirata making his way across the yard towards them, clutching a little wrapped bundle close to his chest.

Atin heard Fi's breath catch in his throat and laid a hand on his shoulder. _"Udesii, ner vod, udesii."_ He could feel him quivering. "I'm not hauling your _shebs_ off the ground when you pass out…breathe…breathe."

Skirata came to a halt in front of them, his smile stretched across his face. "_Kandosii_, Fi. You're a _buir_." He held out the bundle, carefully placing it in the young commando's arms, arranging them for best support. He looked adoringly at his two sons and the baby. "These are the moments that make me the happiest man alive."

Fi cradled the tiny baby to his chest. "Girl or boy?" His voice was barely more than a whisper, cracking as the tears began to run down his cheeks.

Skirata patted his shoulder. "A girl, a daughter." He gave a sob-choked laugh. "_Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."_ He indicated back towards the _kar'yai._ "Come on, everyone wants to congratulate you and see the baby. Parja said you have to name her."

Atin put his arm around Fi's shoulders for moral support as he stepped back into the room full of bodies. Everyone was up on their feet, slapping Fi's back and cooing over the infant. It was Mereel who eventually called for quiet, making a space around the new father. "Well, Fi, what are you going to call her? Parja says that it's your role as the father to name her."

Fi looked uncharacteristically shy, staring down at his child. "We talked about this a lot…and I don't understand why she wants me to be the one to choose." He closed his mouth, feeling the weight of his decision scaring him. He turned to glance around the sea of patient but excited faces, panicking as he felt himself struggling to think; knowing that he was going to stutter and stammer as he tried to explain himself. He took a metaphorical running jump, hoping to plough through the mental block. "Atin…her name is to be Atin Bralor. A…and if…" He paused, taking a deep breath to regain control. "And if something ever happens to me, will you care for her as your own daughter, _ner vod_? Without your support, I don't think I'd have got this far. I don't think I'd have got to Graftikar and if I hadn't then I would never have realised I could meet a lovely girl and have a chance of a family. I didn't think I could have what you and Laseema have or Darman and…and Etain had, and now I feel bad that I have more than you will ever be able to have." He trailed off, feeling anxious as he held his squad brother's deep brown gaze. Staring straight into his eyes, he found himself thinking of everything they'd been through – what made them individuals yet so closely connected; Atin's scars were a constant reminder of the horrific injuries he sustained at Vau's hands – not even on the battle field – and then there was the near fatal verpine round on Quiilura…

The memory of that extraction suddenly brought a sickening wave of tears to his eyes; the unexpected reminder of how close they came to death, over and over again. Before the tears blurred his vision, he saw his brother step forward to close the distance between them and then the strong arms wrapped around him, both holding him tight while protecting the baby between them.

He felt like he'd been doing an awful lot of crying lately, considering it was meant to be the women who got hormonal. All he could think about was the awful, empty months were he had felt that he had nothing to live for except to fight a war in which he had no stake and no worth aside from as a commodity. Bits of memories would come flooding back to him now; the sound of Niner crying for _Kal'buir_ to draw in Ghez Hokan morphed into a nightmare in which the cries were real, born of pain and terror…mixed with idle recollections of moments of down time together; of sitting in camp on Qiilura with Etain for the first time and of Atin's violent reaction to Marit stew on Graftikar.

The bundle in his arms began to squirm, making little noises that seemed to be building up to a sob.

He found himself rocking her gently, completely unaware of it until the noises eased and the little face looked up at them with blind attention. It dawned on him that he had moved automatically to comfort the baby without anyone telling him what to do. He knew an infant of this age could not see with clarity at this distance but he found himself laughing anyway. "She's going to have to learn subtle nuances of character quickly or she'll think she has over a dozen _buirs_." He shifted her into one arm so that he could free the other one, offering her his hand and gulping back fresh tears as his forefinger was grasped in a tight, determined grip. "_Su'cuy_, At'ika. Are you ready to meet your very large family?" He took his finger back and handed her over to Atin who looked just as overwhelmed as Fi felt. "Let's start with him. Say hello to your _ta'buir_, Atin Skirata."

* * *

_**This is the first day of my OC's life. This story will continue to flesh her out in her family. **_

_**It's a study to build the character for my MandoMerc cosplay. **_

**_Anyone interested in the costuming side can keep track of that on deviantart - my username is structuresque. I will update that more when I actually get painting!_**

**_As always, thanks for taking the time to read my work. :)_**


	2. Phantom Pain 3BBY

**AN: Please note that chapters are not being uploaded in any chronological order. They are just snippets in her life and the life of the clan and are uploaded as ideas come to me. They will always be dated so you know how old she is. She was born in 19BBY, so she is 16 in this chapter.**

* * *

**P****hantom Pain**

**Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore in the year 3BBY**

The dream had felt horrifically real; so real that he had woken in a sweat. The midsummer storm raged outside the _vheh'yaim_ and the flashes of lightning served only to amplify the stress, seeming for all the world like live ordnance. It didn't matter how much he comforted himself that he was safe, it still came back to haunt him. It didn't need to be a stormy night, full of power and energy; he could find himself awake on a beautiful spring night in just the same state.

_The flashback nightmares varied through many different scenarios; none of the clones were short of trauma. Tonight he had dreamt of Qiilura; of the silent, agonising shot of the Verpine round that had extended beyond the protective capabilities of his katarn armour_. As he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his sweat soaked shirt, he could feel the burning pain – phantom pain. The shot was long healed, although he still had the scar for memory, but when he lapsed back into the memories he felt the pain. He didn't understand why but it was just something he had to deal with. _Usually his nightmares were of his training years and his spar with Vau. Being slashed with the beskad, unable to protect himself from the blade haunted him with painful regularity. When he woke from those nightmares, the feeling of complete vulnerability and the smell of blood made him vomit._

Tonight, he struggled to breathe, trying to convince his body that there wasn't really a round in his chest collapsing his right lung. He fingered the scar below his rib cage and got to his feet, creeping out the room and into the curved hall without waking Laseema, trying not to pant because that made it harder to pull back to reality. On the worst occasions, he found himself going to Kal'buir for comfort; reverting to being a scared little boy rather than a strapping adult mercenary.

_Even his age was a variable. He had been twenty eight when Dr Uthan had administered the aging antidote, so now he felt he should be forty four, but none of them felt that old. They had aged at double speed in their first fourteen years of life so when the genetic information had been teased out to form an 'antidote', the geneticist Dr Uthan had reversed the tweak to reduce their aging. Now they aged slower than normal. Nothing was normal in Kyrimorut. The rate at which each clone aged now seemed to vary depending on the individual but none of them had reached the chronological age expected yet. _

_Age is just a number; it had been meaningless in their childhood and now it was still meaningless. The only time it had felt important had been the years spent searching for the Kaminoan data. It had been a heavy pressure in those years; each now knowing what they wanted to live for._

He half expected Kal'buir to be sleeping in his chair beside the fire but tonight the _kar'yai_ was empty. He made himself a sweet mug of _shig_ and settled down on a thick fur rug in front of the central hearth, resting with his back against a heavy chair.

The flames flickered and the embers clicked and popped.

He shook his head a little in frustration at himself, wishing he could just roll over and go back to sleep, but the pain had settled and would gnaw at him until the day's activities distracted him. Painkillers didn't touch it, because there was no injury to treat and any attempts to convince his mind that he was unhurt always failed, so he had come to expect a day lost to the pain of a nightmare.

The floorboards creaked and he looked up to see his niece standing in the doorway. She wore a look of concern, fixing him with an intent gaze. "_Ner cabur_?" She didn't ask if he was okay; she could tell by his pallor, and by the way he nursed the mug of _shig_, that he had dragged himself from a nightmare and was dealing with the aftermath. "Can I get you anything?" She crossed the room and sat in the chair that he was leaning against, laying a hand on his bare shoulder; wise beyond her years when it came to dealing with the emotional baggage of ex-commandos.

He reached up and placed a hand on top of hers, squeezing her fingers. "I'll be okay, _ner ka'rta_, go back to bed." He shifted uncomfortably, sucking in a few tense breaths as the fire burned inside him. Struggling to get your breath was a panic trigger in any creature's mind – even the mind of a highly trained soldier. He radiated discomfort like the fire radiated heat. His skin was hot under her fingers and he had that sharp feeling of fear of being unwell when everyone else was asleep – it was a lonely time of night and he was glad of her comforting presence behind him.

She squeezed his shoulder hard; hard enough to pull him back from the brink of panic. "_Udesii…udesii_. What did you dream, _ta'buir_?" She often tried to ask them about the war but nobody was forthcoming with details. She spent a lot of time under the emotional shadow of a war she never saw – she knew that her own _buir_ had very nearly become a statistic – but the truths stayed held from her reach. "I'm not going to bed. Ordo's in the room next to me and he's having nightmares too. I can't sleep." She paused, listening to his laboured breathing. "Why does Ordo never sleep well in thunderstorms?"

Her question caught him off guard as he was focussed on the in and out of his own breath. "Live ordnance testing when he was two years old…_osik_." He stared up at the arched timbers of the roof structure. "The kaminoans traumatised the nulls; they broke them…they saw them as an experiment, not people. The wanted to terminate them because they were too uncontrollable but Kal'buir stepped in." He closed his eyes, feeling the flood gates open to questions. "They did terrible things to all clones, but the nulls were the trial batch. The storms on Kamino scared Ordo because they reminded him of the ordnance testing…it storms a lot on Kamino. They all struggle; it's just that Ordo's the only one who shouts in his sleep like that. Poke your head in to Prudii and Kom'rk's room as you pass. I guarantee they are not sleeping calm tonight either. If you were to go up another corridor and find another Null, it'd be the same…" He trailed off into silence. "Anyway…bed, cyar'ika. It's late."

She fixed him with that look which made him feel like he was staring in a mirror. She had many of her father's mannerisms; his sense of humour and his skills with a weapon; but when she got obstinate she became just like himself. Maybe she felt she needed to live up to the name as much as he did. "_Ta'buir_, I've already told you, I'm not tired." She slid down to sit on the floor beside him, threading her arm through his and laying her head on his shoulder. "Tell me about when you and _buir_ were commandos…please… I want to understand, not just feel the sadness…" She didn't look up at him; just staring ahead into the flickering fire.

Atin opened his mouth to argue, but he did understand her need to know. So instead he found himself talking quietly through the years; starting at Geonosis and ending after the Qiilura mission. It didn't feel like it, but he'd spoken uninterrupted for nearly an hour and her head was heavy on his shoulder now. "That's enough for tonight, _At'ika_. I promise I'll tell you more another time. It's not as if I'm leaving you on a cliff hanger…after all, you know I lived." He tried to joke to lighten the heavy feeling in his chest. "Go on. I'll see you in the morning." He encouraged her to get to her feet.

She leant down slowly to kiss him goodnight on his scarred cheek. "Goodnight, _ta'buir_."

She left him sitting by the fire, knowing he wouldn't return to bed and felt her way slowly back up the hall towards the cluster of five bedrooms. Ordo was quieter now, but she could still hear him; it was a wonder that Besany could sleep at all, but she never seemed to complain. There was no noise from her parents' room or from Laseema. Before returning to bed, she remembered Atin's words and took step back to Prudii and Kom'rk's door. They slept next door to her but never created much disturbance.

She slid the door back silently and poked her head in, struggling to make out much in the darkness. They slept with the curtains blacking out the moon so there was only the little light passing through the open door way to illuminate the scene.

They were lying together, wrapped tightly in a tangle of limbs. Kom'rk lay on his back with Prudii half sprawled on top; Kom'rk's strong arms holding them both together while Prudii gripped his upper arms in a tight hold. They had their foreheads just touching, both breathing a little faster than normal calm respiration rate but still asleep. They looked like they'd been terrified by something and had leapt into each other's arms but really they were fast asleep and had probably been like so for hours.

On the odd occasions where she had caught them dozing together they had been sleeping back to stomach, curled around each other; taking it in turns to protect and be protected, but now they were gripped in each other's arms as if their life depended upon it. She found their relationship and that of every couple in the bastion comforting. They lived in such a tight knit group; it was good to see true love stable among the unusual family dynamic.

She stepped back, letting the door slide shut silently and then returned to her room, feeling so tired and strangely content, despite the disturbances that she was sure she would be asleep the moment her body sank onto the mattress.

* * *

A little description for some of the mando'a used:

Ner Cabur – my protector/my guardian.

Ta'buir – second father

Ner Ka'rta – my soul

* * *

**Thanks for reading ~ Atin**


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